Wanting is a Curious Thing
by Accidental Affinity
Summary: My version of the infamous Epsisode 25. LightxL, yaoi, rated for safety. it's really more like T plus. obviosly, spoilers for episode 25 chapter 58.


**A/N: Last night I watched episode 25. It has GOT to be one of the most beautifully done episodes of anything ever, seriously. But starting from the scene on the roof, I was yelling at the screen "Kiss! Make out! Have sex! Do something!" No really, I was yelling that. Don't get me wrong, I got the whole biblical reference thing with the feet. I just thought the episode needed… something else. Soooo, that's what I did. I didn't want to write this at midnight last night, when normal people were sleeping, but that's what I did. So enjoy.**

**Oh! I forgot to mention this when I first posted this story (stupidstupidstupid). The story is told by alternating the POV between Light and L, starting with Light. I hope that didn't confuse anyone (it probably did). Gomen nasai!**

Wanting is a Curious Thing

I don't know why, but I followed you out to the roof to face the pouring rain with you that night. I didn't really want to, but somehow I did. Standing out there with you, I wasn't thinking of what I was doing there. I wasn't thinking of how wet I was getting, or even what the fuck you were talking about. No, what I thought about was how the rain was sliding through your hair, down your face as delicately as tears, and off your lips. I didn't want to, but I thought of how those drops of rain would taste if I licked them off of you, one by one.

I didn't want to, but I found myself talking to you in a way that I knew was dangerous. Telling you my thoughts and feelings; it wasn't safe, I know. I didn't want to say them, but I did. They fell from my mouth as easily as the rain from your chest. And just when I thought I couldn't surprise myself anymore, I reached towards you, watched your eyes widen as I came closer. I didn't want to, but somehow my lips brushed yours, and you tasted of sweet rain and bitter lies.

Even as I tried not to watch you dry off your hair, I could still feel the soft pressure of you mouth against mine. I didn't want to, but I replayed out kiss over and over. How your lips, despite the rain, were warm. How even though I didn't want to, I felt something stir in me. It's the same feeling that stirred again as you knelt before me and caressed my feet like they were precious jewels. I didn't want to, but I still thought you, with all your strangeness, were more beautiful than Jesus could ever have been before Judas.

Somehow, although I didn't want to, I was holding your feet in my hands, offering to dry them for you. I didn't even look up to see your shocked face. I didn't have to. I was overwhelmed by a feeling; what else could I call it but sadness? Hopelessness, mixed with a touch of anguish. Strangely enough, there was something else too. Something foreign to me, something sweet and heavy. But what could I say? So I kept rubbing your feet, so lost in thought that when you reached out with your towel to dry my hair, it took me a moment to figure out what you were doing. By then, you had gently lifted my head up, nearly leveled it with yours. I certainly didn't want to, but I looked into your eyes.

I was no longer sure of what I wanted when I tugged your face to mine. All I knew was what I felt, and that was your pale face, still wet with rain; your warm lips, still not quite dry; and something else, a low, consuming desire to not let you go just yet. Did I want to? I pulled you in deeper, felt your mouth move in response to mine, felt your slick tongue nudge at my lips, hesitantly at first, then more forcefully. Did you want to? I could tell by your body, pushing hard and grinding insistently against mine that it certainly did. And really, what room is there for thinking at a time like that?

It didn't matter what I wanted anymore; it was what I needed. I needed your lips, teeth, and tongue pressed against mine, my neck, my chest, my waist, and everywhere in between. I needed your breath, hot against my neck, blowing in my ear, breathing into me. I needed you body, wrapped around mine, heavy on top of me, hot inside me. I needed you so hard that I almost forgot my impending doom, my fate which I am resigned to. How could I think with you gasping and panting, moving and thrusting, licking and touching? I didn't want to think anymore, so I didn't. But among the many noises you made, among your muffled moans of desire, among a name that isn't truly mine, I thought I heard you say, "Forgive me". Did I hear it? Does it matter? I don't want to, but it seems I already have.

Luckily, your phone rang when we were done and almost dressed. We exchanged a last look, a look of lovers who didn't want to be, but who lost control of fate. Our secret sin was soon forgotten though, in the chaos that followed. When the old man died, I knew I should have felt your pain and distress, like a true lover should. Instead, though I didn't want to, I felt the killer in me rise up again. He relished in your pain, rejoiced at what we knew would come next. When you fell from your chair (such a graceful fall, like a swan shot from the sky), it was pure reflexes that made me catch you. Reflexes of what though? Of a lover? Of a friend? Of a hunter catching his fallen prey at last? I could feel your heart beat slow, your head sink in defeat into my lap, your eyes wide with surprise and fear begin to glaze over and close. I didn't want to, but I smirked at your downfall. The God in me didn't want to lose. But wanting is a curious thing. I didn't want you to die in my arms, so soon and so suddenly. I didn't want to see your amazing mind snuff out, your obsidian eyes glaze pale. I didn't want this to be the end of you. I didn't want to, but I let out a scream of agony. Despite of who had wanted what, I won at last.


End file.
